The History That Haunts, The Story That Drives
by azulfanatica
Summary: A secret from Delko's past affects his ability to cope with his latest investigation. When the young CSI crosses the line with a suspect, Horatio must learn a lesson in mercy. Ep.2x04, "Death Grip." Five-part fic, complete.
1. Chapter 1

A/N 1: Set around ep.2x04, "Death Grip." My take on what could have happened. Five-part fic, not beta'd.

A/N 2: There are mentions of rape in this story. Also, since "Death Grip" occurs before S.7 and S.8, I've taken slight creative liberty with Eric's story.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 1

* * *

Delko wasn't sure how many more of these cases he could take. He'd stood and watched as Jeff irrigated the crocodile's stomach, and somehow he didn't even flinch when a foot spilled out of its mouth. He knew Conseula Valdes was dead before this moment; the foot only confirmed what he already felt deep down.

Without a word, Eric turned and left. He didn't make it very far before he felt a calm presence approach behind him.

"Hey. You okay?" came a sweet, quiet voice. Calleigh had been Eric's constant since the day he began at CSI three years ago. They'd become close friends, and he-frequently-thanked his lucky stars to have her in his life.

Eric sighed. "Blonde girl's missing and the National Guard turns out to help. Hispanic girl, no one gives a damn."

Calleigh felt her friend's pain. She knew these cases affected him the most, and she tried her best to comfort him when he started down the dark road of memory lane.

"I think there are a lot of people here," she tried to rationalize. It sounded lame even to her ears.

Eric finally turned around, gesturing in frustration. "Oh, come on, Calleigh. You saw the media's response to Lana Walker. You know? Where were the yellow ribbons for Consuela Valdes? The recovery center. It's the same song, you know? You want any real attention in this world, you got to have blonde hair and blue eyes. No offense."

Calleigh smiled. "None taken. My eyes are green."

Eric chuckled a little and gave another exhausted sigh. "I'm just mad that we couldn't save her," he said softly, looking toward the marshes without actually seeing them. They would probably never find Consuela's body. What kind of closure could that ever give her parents?

Calleigh stepped forward and placed a light hand on his crossed forearms. "Let's go get this guy."

He smiled, a new determination settling over him. "Yeah." With that, they both turned back toward the group of police officers and searchers.

Despite Eric's resolve, Calleigh watched him closely as the afternoon progressed, becoming increasingly worried that all was not, in fact, well with her best friend. A storm was brewing inside the man, and she dreaded the moment he would let it all loose.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

How many hours had he spent unraveling tennis string with Calleigh and Speed? Just when Eric was ready to give up, Cal whispered so that only he could hear, "Don't, Eric. We'll find it." She sent him a reassuring smile, and that's all he needed to keep going.

Fifteen minutes later, Delko's heart soared in triumph. Quickly, he came around the lab table and placed his findings in front of Calleigh. He'd done it. Calleigh looked up at Eric, beaming. "We need to find Horatio," she said.

With Speedle in tow, they navigated their way through the labyrinth of labs and offices, downstairs to the morgue where Horatio stood intently photographing the string wrapped around Consuela Valdes' severed arm.

"H!" Eric called. The redhead looked up from his work and surveyed his three CSIs.

"Found something?" he inquired, already knowing the answer by the looks on their faces.

"Delko matched the string from the girl's remains to the stuff Kendall uses to re-string his racquets."

"We got him," Calleigh added with a satisfied smile.

Horatio looked to Eric, who appeared even more anxious than the lieutenant had seen him all day. H thought his youngest CSI would be pleased once they confirmed that David Kendall had murdered Consuela Valdes, but it seemed that the exact opposite had occurred. He pushed the thought aside but made a note to himself to talk to Eric when he got the chance.

"Alright, people. Good job. Calleigh, Speedle—I need you to contact Francisco and Milagra Valdes. Eric, you're with me."

"Got it," Tim said as he and Calleigh turned and left the autopsy room.

"David Kendall?" the tall Cuban asked as his boss documented the last of his observations and quickly stowed his work. Eric watched Horatio return the young girl's arm to its place in the refrigerated locker. Anger flared in him for the hundredth time that day.

Horatio turned around just in time to see Delko rearrange his features in an attempt to hide his outrage. Frankly, H knew how these cases gnawed at Eric, and he was surprised that the man had contained his frustration so well up to this point. He debated the wisdom of bringing Eric with him to take Kendall into custody, but eventually he decided to take the risk. Delko was the one to tie the animal to the murder, and he should be the one to bring him in.

"Yes. Let's go."

They hurriedly made their way upstairs and over to the Homicide Unit. "Yelina," Horatio called as he spotted the beautiful detective. "Tell me we have a location on David Kendall."

"You're just in time," she said with a smile, although her brother-in-law could see the concern written on her face. "I just finished talking to Krista Walker. Lana ran away again, and she's convinced her daughter is with Kendall. I've got Jacobsen working on their whereabouts."

Horatio looked away and fiddled with his sunglasses, a grim look in his eyes. "We need to get an arrest warrant, now."

Eric narrowed his eyes as he studied the man beside him. "You think Mrs. Walker will try to deal with this on her own?"

"That's exactly what I think, Mr. Delko."

Yelina frowned and turned to her computer. Within ten minutes, she'd drawn up the warrant and the three of them rushed the two miles to the courthouse to have a judge sign it. They were rapidly losing time as the sun sank closer and closer to the horizon. Apprehending a suspect at night drastically increased the risk for the officers involved. Not to mention they had a vengeful mother on the warpath; they desperately needed to find both David Kendall and Krista Walker before the latter took matters into her own hands.

Yelina's cell phone buzzed to life and she answered it with a practiced flip of her wrist. "Salas. Excellent. Dispatch back-up to meet us there. Twenty minutes."

Eric and Horatio eyed the detective eagerly. She did not disappoint. "That was Jacobsen. Kendall is holed up in a motel in Coconut Grove."

The three of them were already on the move before Yelina finished her debrief. Lana _was_ with the tennis instructor. Eric internally cursed as he thought about another young girl falling victim to this animal.

Twenty minutes later, Yelina, Eric, Horatio, pulled up to the flea-bag motel and were greeted by the worst possible scenario. Kendall stood just outside the door to his room, Lana at his feet. Ten feet away from them stood a gun-wielding Krista Walker. A dozen some-odd officers had taken up various offensive positions around the parking lot, ready to intervene at a moment's notice. The trio leapt from the Hummer, weapons in hand.

"I'll shoot!" the irate woman screamed. "I'll kill you before I let you touch my daughter!" Kendall sent her a pleading look which begged her to believe he was innocent.

"Mrs. Walker," Horatio called calmly. Krista turned swiftly and aimed the gun at his head.

He kept an even voice as he tried again. "Mrs. Walker, don't do this. Mrs. Walker, don't make this mistake."

Her eyes welled up with tears. "He's not going to stop."

"No. That's not true," Horatio said, shaking his head slowly. "We have him. We have him for killing another little girl just like… just like Lana."

The gun shook in the mother's hands as she fought back. "He's going to get away with it!"

Horatio let go of his firearm, holding it in the air in a sign of goodwill. The seasoned detective could see her resolve beginning to waver and made one last plea. Behind him, Eric kept his weapon trained on David Kendall, swearing he'd kill the bastard if he so much as moved. "No, he's not," H said. "But if you make this mistake, Mrs. Walker, Lana loses you, and you lose everything for him. And he's not worth it. Give me the gun."

She finally released her hold on the gun in defeat, and Horatio went forward quickly and removed it from her trembling hand. "Good."

Before anyone could react, Kendall yanked Lana from her position at his feet and held her roughly in front of him. Delko saw red and tightened his grip around his weapon, but he knew he could never get off a clean shot with three people standing between him and the smug predator.

"David, let her go," Horatio called, an edge to his voice.

"There's one thing you're missing. That Lana loves me. Tell him. Tell him you love me."

Lana eyes recognized David's statement as truth. "We're in love. Why can't you just go away? This is none of your business."

Delko's stomach churned at the teenager's words. She didn't know what she was saying. She'd been duped by this man, tricked into believing she was in love. Eric's anger returned at full force as he looked Kendall in the eye and saw no remorse there. He brutally murdered a fourteen-year-old girl, most likely raped her. At the same time, he was having sex with another young girl. There was no doubt in Eric's mind that Lana Walker would have ended up exactly like Consuela Valdes. It was only a matter of time.

Horatio spoke up again. "Lana, tomorrow morning I will be going to a memorial for another little girl your age who was killed by David. Right, David?"

Eric could no longer keep his silence. "Tell Lana how you killed Consuela. You don't have the guts, do you?"

Horatio held out his hand to Lana. "Listen to us, sweetheart. Come on."

Lana was horrified by what she was hearing, and as David realized that she was finally seeing the truth, he relented and let her go. The game was up. The girl headed straight for Horatio, and the two of them met Krista half-way. H handed her to her mother and stood close by, needing to reassure himself that the teen was unharmed.

As soon as Kendall released his hostage, Delko and two other officers rushed forward and seized him. The disgraced tennis pro fell to his knees, patted down and wearing hand cuffs in seconds.

"I guess the tables have turned, Kendall. How does it feel to have _your_ hands bound?" Eric snarled in the man's ear as he marched him to the nearest patrol car.

"No one even missed the little bitch," he responded with fire in his eyes and a vicious grin on his face.

That was the last straw. Eric grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him violently against the police cruiser. "You don't think her parents missed her?" he yelled at Kendall, shoving him hard against the car once more as he resisted.

"You don't think her family misses her? Her friends? You deserve to rot in hell for what you did to that little girl," Eric spat.

"She never mattered," came the unrepentant reply.

"That's enough!" Horatio shouted as he wrapped his arms around Eric in a firm hold from behind. He forcefully drew his CSI away from their suspect just as he was pulling back his fist to knock David Kendall to his ass.

As another officer jumped in to restrain Kendall and push him into the patrol car, Horatio struggled to keep a grasp on Eric.

"Get _off_ me!" he growled, ripping himself from his boss's firm grip. Eric's chest was heaving and his smooth olive skin had become flushed. He fixed Horatio with a death glare, ignoring the officers gawking at him in shock.

The redhead took a careful step forward, and although he was frightened by Delko's uncharacteristic behavior, he didn't let it show on his face. On the outside, Horatio Caine was the picture of composure. His voice, on the other hand, was dangerously low as he cautioned the man standing before him.

"Eric, I suggest you calm down. Fast."

Delko was steaming. Horatio was like a father to him, but he couldn't possibly understand the emotions raging inside Eric right now. He never bothered to ask.

No matter the reason, Eric knew he shouldn't have lost his temper. He'd effectively assaulted his LT with a dozen people there as witnesses, and he knew he'd have to face the consequences. At the moment, however, all he wanted to do was get out of that motel parking lot and forget that monsters like David Kendall ever existed.

He said nothing to Horatio as he stormed past him. When H attempted to grab Eric's elbow, he whipped around and hissed, "Don't touch me." Sparks were flying from his eyes and Horatio knew better than to try and keep him there.

So Eric left. He left Kendall, he left the Walkers, and he left the man he trusted more than almost anyone else on this earth. His heart pounded as he walked away from the motel, and kept walking. The dark road stretched before him, few signs of life greeting him as he moved numbly ahead.

Almost of its own accord, Eric's hand reached down for his cell phone. His fingers hit speed dial and he brought the phone to his ear, listening for the voice that could soothe him in an instant.

"Duquesne."

Eric just listened for a moment, not sure what to say.

"Hello?" Calleigh called over the line.

"Calleigh," Eric said quietly. "I need you to come and get me."

The ballistics expert was immediately on alert. Her friend's voice sounded dead. And why was he calling her when he was supposed to be in the middle of a raid? Calleigh was still with Consuela Valdes' parents, and she was certain Eric knew that.

"Are you okay?" she asked urgently.

Eric had no energy left to lie, and he didn't want to anyway. "No, not really."

Calleigh's radar jumped into overdrive. "Where are you?"

The Cuban man looked around him, not sure exactly _where _he was. To his right were a convenience store and a pharmacy. To Eric's left lay a residential area, and ahead of him he could see several restaurants and a major intersection. "Uh, I think I'm near Hardee and San Vicente. Make that Hardee and Magglore," he corrected as he came upon the crossroads.

"Stay put," Calleigh commanded. "I'll be there in fifteen."

"'Kay," Eric sighed. The line went dead.

* * *

When Calleigh pulled up to the intersection Eric had named, she spied him sitting on a short brick wall in front of the row of restaurants, head in his hands. Silently, she came to sit beside him. Eric felt her presence but didn't acknowledge her.

"Wanna tell me what happened?" the petite blonde asked softly.

He shook his head in his hands. Eric didn't want to face Cal right now. He'd had some time to cool off as he waited for her to arrive, and shame had replaced most of the CSI's anger. Thankfully, Calleigh didn't press him, and she waited patiently until Eric was ready to talk.

He finally raised his head and looked into Calleigh's green eyes. "Take me home?"

Cal grinned and shook her head. "Nope. We're going to my place. It's closer." She did live less than ten minutes from where they now sat, but her primary reason for taking Eric to her place was to prevent him from escaping.

Eric stood wordlessly and turned toward the parking lot to climb in the Hummer, but he was surprised to find that Calleigh had driven her own car here. She was obviously not planning on going back to work tonight. He sent a questioning glance her way.

"I figured we couldn't do much more tonight. Tim said he'd stay," she explained with a shrug of her shoulders. Seeing the look on Eric's face, Calleigh added quickly, "Don't worry, I didn't tell him anything."

"It doesn't matter," he sighed. "The whole department will know about it before the night's up."

Calleigh furrowed her brows. Something serious had obviously happened; from what little she could gather, it seemed like Eric had walked out on the raid. She kicked herself for not realizing just how upset Eric was earlier. Maybe she could have prevented all of this. She stared at him for a brief moment before climbing in her car and starting the engine. They drove in silence.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * *

"She would have been twenty-three this week," Eric said as he settled further into Cal's overstuffed couch. His voice was just above a whisper. "On Friday."

Eric and Calleigh had been sitting on her sofa for fifteen minutes, listening to the soft music coming over her stereo speakers and sipping mugs of hot tea. Her momma's recipe for spiced orange herbal tea never failed to calm the nerves. Eric had completely drained his mug and refilled it before he spoke.

As soon as he said the words, Calleigh understood. "You lost your temper?"

Eric shut his eyes tight, trying to block out the memory of David Kendall smirking at him with that sick gleam in his eye. "To say the least," he said on a sigh.

He explained what happened at the motel, down to the last detail. When he was finished, Calleigh grabbed his hand it squeezed it gently. Nothing she could say would make his pain disappear or fix what he'd done. She also couldn't say that if she was in Delko's position she wouldn't have done the exact same thing.

-FLASHBACK-

"Eric!" A heavily accented voice interrupted Calleigh and Eric's conversation as they stood in the hallway just past the reception area.

"Papi," the young CSI called as he saw his father walking toward them. "What're you doing here?"

The tall, gentle-looking man laughed and Calleigh could see the crow's feet crinkle at the corners of his eyes from twenty feet away. This man obviously spent a great deal of time laughing. He was fit and had broad shoulders, and his thick silver hair and mustache were just a little out of control. All in all, Eric's father looked just the way Calleigh had imagined him.

She couldn't help the smile that spread across her face as Eric embraced his father warmly. The two men backed up a step but held on to each others' arms as the greeted. "I thought I would surprise my only son and take him to lunch to celebrate," Pavel said with a mischievous grin.

Eric had joined CSI less than a week ago, and Calleigh could see that this man was one proud papa. He turned to face the blonde. "And who is this beautiful lady?" he asked his son.

Eric laughed and rolled his eyes. "Keep the charm in check, Papi. I have to work with these people." Looking at Calleigh, he said, "Pavel Delektorsky, meet Calleigh Duquesne. She's our resident ballistics expert."

Pavel raised his eyebrows in respect. "I am honored," he said in his thick Russian accent, offering Calleigh a little bow.

Laughter bubbled from the woman's chest. She tossed Eric an amused glance and quipped, "I see where you get it, Delko." He rolled his eyes again and his father chuckled deeply.

"Would you like to join us for lunch, Ms. Duquesne?" Pavel asked politely.

Cal checked her watch and then looked back at Eric and his dad with a smile. "As long as Eric doesn't mind, that would be great. We've got an hour."

The younger Delko welcomed her along, and the trio set off for lunch. They spent an hour and fifteen minutes laughing hysterically at Pavel's old stories and Calleigh's adventures during her last two years as a CSI. Eric finally looked at his watch and jumped in surprise. "Calleigh, we need to get going. It's already 1:15."

His father had already paid the check, so the three of them made haste to walk back to the Crime Lab. Before Pavel bid them farewell, he said to Calleigh, "I must see you soon. Eric, you make sure to bring her home. Your friend, too, Mr. Speedle." His eyes danced with merriment and Calleigh knew she couldn't deny him what he wanted.

Eric was pleased to see how taken Calleigh was with his father, and vice versa. He was still learning the ropes at the lab, and inviting them over for a famous Delko dinner would be the perfect opportunity to get to know his new co-workers. "Will do, Papi," he said with a smile and hugged him tightly one last time.

With that, they parted ways. That weekend Calleigh invited Eric, Speed, and another half-dozen people to her apartment for a proper Southern meal in her own celebration of Delko's arrival to the team. The night went off without a hitch, and Eric felt—for the first time in a long time—that he had finally found a place where he belonged.

He stayed behind to help Calleigh clean up after everyone else left. As he brought in the last of the paper plates from the courtyard, she chastised, "Eric, you can't clean up after your own party!"

"Soy cubano," he retorted. "Todos cocinan, todos limpian."

A sparkle grew in Calleigh's eye. "You mean you're half-Cuban, half-Russian," she said with a chuckle. "I can honestly say I've never met anyone quite like your dad."

Eric's grin faltered a little, but he recovered quickly. Calleigh was a CSI, though, and she didn't miss the slight flicker on her colleague's face. She stored his reaction away to consider another time.

"He loves you," the woman remarked with an affectionate smile. "He _really_ loves you. I thought he might explode with pride when he walked into the lab."

Eric's brown eyes brightened at her comment, and he locked his gaze with Calleigh's. "He wanted me to be an engineer like him," he explained. "But then he cried the day I graduated from the Academy." His voice was happy and full of nostalgia, and Calleigh's chest tightened as she saw the same love on Eric's face that his father's had shown earlier that week.

There was something about this man, Eric Delko. Calleigh couldn't explain it, but he was uncommonly interesting to her. He was quiet but enjoyed a good joke, unassuming but highly intelligent, and somehow he'd fit right in with their team. Strangely enough, Calleigh already felt like she could trust him.

Eric felt the same way, struggling to understand why he was so comfortable opening up to Calleigh Duquesne. He never shared things about his family with people he'd just met. But then again, he also didn't make a habit of taking people to lunch with his father after less than a week of acquaintance.

He looked up to see Calleigh lost in thought. She felt him staring at her and tilted her head up to meet his eyes, giving him a small smile. "Is your whole family like that?"

Eric was confused. "Like what?"

"I don't know. So…open?"

"Yes," he laughed. "Sometimes we're _too _open. I have four nephews and nieces, and I watched my sisters give birth to every one of them. Not to mention all my cousins' kids."

Calleigh had a hard time picturing a man like Delko willingly enduring the phenomenon of childbirth—and more than once. "How many sisters do you have?" she asked, intrigued.

"Four. Isabel, Clara, Gabriela, and Marisol."

"And their kids?"

"Clara's came first—Leila and Aubrey. Then Isa had Alejandro, and Gabi just had Ana Maria."

"How many cousins do you have?"

That look was back on Eric's face, but this time he couldn't hide it as well. How was he supposed to respond? He shifted uncomfortably on the couch, wishing now he had never opened the door to this conversation. It seemed odd that no one had ever asked him that question before. And now that Calleigh had done so, Eric didn't know what to say.

He cleared his throat before he answered. "I only know my mother's side of the family. I, uh, have six immediate cousins, and they have five children between them. Beyond that, I couldn't begin to count. Half my family is still in Cuba."

Calleigh watched Eric closely, debating whether or not she should push the subject further. Given the look in his eye at the moment, she chose not to give in to her curiosity.

Eric saved her the trouble. The words spilled out of him before he could stop them. "Actually, that's not entirely true." His hands fidgeted in his lap as he began to tell his story. Alida's story.

"I used to have six cousins. Now I have five." His eyes darted up to Calleigh's to gauge her reaction. Her face was filled with curiosity and concern, and she moved to sit in the empty bar stool next to Eric.

"When I was twelve, my baby cousin was murdered." He chuckled sadly as he continued. "I call her 'baby,' but really she was only five years younger than me. At the time, we all lived in the same house—my parents' house. And she was constantly following me around, trying to copy everything I did."

Calleigh smiled as she pictured a teenage Eric Delko, thoroughly annoyed with his seven-year-old cousin. "What happened?" she asked delicately.

Eric sighed heavily. "One day I couldn't find her. I looked and looked, and I finally decided to search by the canals where we used to play. I'm the one who found her body."

He recounted the whole story for her, and Eric felt a sense of relief as he spoke each word. He hadn't spoken for three weeks after he found Alida's body by the canal, and after a while people just stopped bugging him for answers.

When he finished his tale, Eric locked his eyes on Calleigh's and said earnestly, "She's the reason I became a cop." Then he added, "I never told anyone that before."

"Well," Calleigh said quietly, "Sometimes it's good to keep secrets. But other times it's good to let them out."

Eric knew what she meant. "Well, my family's got enough secrets to spare."

He hadn't told Alida's story in search of pity. Calleigh got the feeling that Eric was, in some ways, still going through the stages of grief. And his last statement was more a declaration of fact than an invitation for Cal to ask questions, but she couldn't help herself.

"Like what?"

He gave her a funny look. She was certainly straightforward, wasn't she? He chuckled and replied with a wink, "I'd tell you but I'd have to kill you."

Calleigh rolled her eyes. "Lame," she retorted. "No, really. What skeletons do the Delektorskys have in their closets?"

Her tone was playful but Eric could see that she was genuinely interested. And oddly enough, he didn't mind telling her. "Hmmm, let me think," he said, grinning. "Well, my tío Hernán tells everyone that he limps from a shark bite he got crossing over from Cuba. But _really_, he tripped over a soccer ball when he was twelve and broke his leg."

"Yeah?" Calleigh laughed.

"Yes," Eric said, grinning crookedly. "Oh, and my cousin Mercedes burnt down the shed in our backyard when she was nine. No one knows that but me and Marisol, though. Everyone else thinks it was our next door neighbor Antoine."

"That's horrible!" Calleigh cried.

"Not really," Eric shrugged. "I swear that kid was the spawn of Satan."

"I doubt you were so angelic yourself as a kid," Calleigh laughed again. A shrewd look came into her eye as her amusement died down. "Something tells me that's not what you meant by 'secrets,' though."

"You're good," Delko said, studying the firearms expert closely. "I bet you give 'em hell in the interrogation room."

"You'd bet right."

Eric never took his eyes off Calleigh. He had no reason to tell her his family history, but then again, he had no reason _not _to tell her. From what he could tell, she played things pretty close to the vest. After all, he'd just spent an hour telling her all sorts of things about his life, but he still didn't know anything about her.

"The man you met on Thursday," Eric started slowly, "is not my real father…"

-END FLASHBACK-

That conversation marked the beginning of Eric and Calleigh's unique friendship. It had taken quite some convincing on Eric's part for Cal to believe that Pavel wasn't his real dad. Eric was like him in so many ways—they even walked the same: relaxed, self-assured, and one foot turned slightly inward.

Three years later, Calleigh could still sit there and count off a million ways Eric was just like his father. Especially the seriousness and depth of emotion that both men brought to everything they did. That was the problem now. More than twenty years after learning the truth about his heritage, fifteen years after losing Alida, he still felt those things deeply. The secrets of Eric's past haunted him, but they also drove him to seek justice—to give a voice to those who couldn't speak for themselves.

The ringing of Eric's cell phone interrupted the silence that had settled in the room. He took one look at the caller ID and groaned. "It's H."

Calleigh sighed. "Answer it, Eric."

He flipped open the phone. "Delko." His eyes were trained on Calleigh as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line.

The call was brief, and Eric only said, "Okay," before he hung up.

Cal looked at him anxiously. "What did he say?"

"He wants to see me at headquarters."

"I'm coming with you," she declared, pulling her friend off the couch. Eric didn't bother protesting; he knew he wouldn't win.

Calleigh grabbed her keys as Eric slipped on his shoes, and then they both headed out the door.

* * *

A/N: Leila- I've had my own version of Eric's family tree drawn up for a while, and I couldn't bring myself to change his niece's name. It's just so perfect. So, congratulations! You are officially a member of Eric Delko's family ;)


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

* * *

As soon as Eric and Calleigh disembarked from the elevator, they ran into Speedle. "Delko—" he began, but Eric held up a hand to stop him.

"Don't start, Tim. I'm not in the mood."

Speed took a step back and sent Calleigh a concerned look. Delko called him _Tim_? "Whatever you say, man. But just so you know, H isn't happy."

"Yeah, I figured," Eric groused as he made his way up the stairs to the lieutenant's office. Before he left, Cal gave his elbow an encouraging squeeze. Unfortunately, Eric was pretty sure nothing could ease his nerves right now.

When Delko disappeared into Horatio's glass-walled office, Speed turned to Calleigh. "Wanna tell me what's going on?"

"Wanna tell me what people are sayin'?" she quipped in return.

Tim was annoyed with Calleigh's lack of cooperation. "Well, for starters, Eric assaulted a man who was already restrained. Then he 'entered into a physical altercation' with H and went AWOL."

"Then you've got it right, Speedle," she responded angrily.

"Whoa, Cal! I've got Delko's back, you know that." Why was she so defensive?

"But?" Calleigh said, narrowing her eyes a bit.

"But… you and I both know he's walked a fine line this week."

"He has his reasons, Tim," she murmured. "Do me a favor, alright? Quell the rumors?"

Speed didn't ask questions. He, Eric, and Calleigh were often called the Three Musketeers around the lab, but he was also used to the fact that his two closest friends shared a special bond all their own.

"I'm on it," he nodded and walked away.

Calleigh watched him leave, then glanced up to Horatio's office. She didn't need to be in the room to see that Horatio Caine had lost his legendary cool. The man got angry like anybody else, but he never let it show. Except on those rare occasions…

Apparently this was one of those. His eyes were shooting daggers—compassionate daggers, if that was possible—and she could see through the glass that he was clenching his jaw, trying his best not to ream Eric a new one. The thing about Horatio—he didn't have to yell and scream to get his point across. Disappointment and a stern lecture usually served the same purpose. But tonight even Calleigh could tell that H had left his usual calm behind; she could hear the muffled sounds of his raised voice from one-story below.

Delko descended the stairs from Horatio's office fifteen minutes later. Calleigh instantly noticed the frustration rolling off of him in waves, the tension in his back and shoulders. "Eric?"

She'd been sitting on a bench across the hall. Eric appreciated the gesture. "I'm facing an inquiry from IAB, and H is issuing an official letter of reprimand."

Cal shut her eyes and sighed. "Oh, yeah. And I'm suspended for three weeks wthout pay."

"What?" Calleigh gasped, her eyes flying open in surprise. "Are you serious?"

"Why would I joke about that, Cal?" Eric answered angrily, immediately feeling regret. "Ugh. I'm sorry."

"You have a right to be mad, Eric!" she breathed, incensed. "Three weeks? The IA investigation will only take a few days!"

"I'm not gonna fight it. I just want to get out of here."

Calleigh watched her best friend toss his hands in the air in defeat. No way was she going to let him give up like this. "Eric, do you think you actually deserve what H is giving you?"

"I assaulted him," he said abruptly, punctuating each word. "I assaulted a suspect. My actions could blow our entire case!"

"Yeah, Eric, you screwed this up," Calleigh admitted harshly. "But other cops would have gotten a week's suspension. _Maybe_ garnered pay." She took a step toward him. "I think you're punishing _yourself_, because you feel responsible for that little girl's death."

"I AM responsible, Calleigh!" Eric spat.

Cal grabbed her friend gently by the forearms. "No, Eric, you're not," she said softly. "Kendall killed Consuela long before he ever showed up on our radar. There was nothing _anybody_ could have done."

Delko heard Calleigh's words, but they offered him little consolation. "I'm going home, Cal," he sighed. "Thanks for everything. I'll see you tomorrow at the memorial service." He swiftly kissed her cheek then turned and disappeared around the corner, heading for the back stairwell.

Calleigh remained rooted to the spot, mind whirling. Horatio was driving a hard line with Eric; he always did. But this? An internal investigation, a formal reprimand, and three weeks' suspension was excessive, even by Horatio's standards. And Eric was just going to take it, out of some sick sense of guilt.

Without thinking, the blonde CSI launched herself toward the elevator bank, furiously pounding the 'down' button. She rode the lift anxiously downstairs, then ran to the locker room. Calleigh couldn't remember now why she knew the combination to Eric's locker, but she was glad she did. Two seconds later, she was ripping a photo from inside his locker door and rushing back upstairs.

If anyone asked her later how she ended up storming up the stairs to Horatio's office and barging through the glass door, Calleigh wouldn't be able to tell them. Before she knew what she was doing, she was standing in front of her very surprised boss, heart pounding from both emotion and exertion.

"Ms. Duquesne?" the lieutenant asked warily. "Need something?"

"Yes," Calleigh panted. "An explanation." Her words were spilling from her mouth as quickly as they entered her head, and Cal prayed to God she didn't say something she would regret. At the same time, she knew without a doubt that this was the right thing to do.

"Excuse me?"

"Horatio, ever since Megan left you've been asking me for more input. You've given me more responsibilities, wanted my opinions."

"And you've done that well," he said, still not sure where this conversation was headed.

"No, I haven't," Calleigh stated forcefully. "Because if I had, I would have spoken up sooner."

"Ma'am?"

The woman huffed in frustration, pacing a few steps in front of Horatio before turning to face him with fire in her eyes. She spoke in a rush: "Horatio, you demand excellence from this team, and you know how to challenge every one of us in the best way. You offer me space to work out my own problems and shortcomings. Speed—he forgets to clean his gun and nearly gets killed—and you tell him to get his shit together without saying a _word_. With Eric… he needs that verbal correction. And you give it to him."

Horatio had seen Calleigh waiting downstairs for Delko to leave his office. He'd seen their exchange before Eric left, but he wasn't sure why she was thisangry.

"Before you go any further, Calleigh," H said quietly, "if you're here about Eric…Eric's actions might allow a rapist and murderer to go free. He tied my hands."

Calleigh heard the kindness in his voice, but it did nothing to quench the rage building inside of her. "You alwayshave a choice, Horatio," she nearly growled. The lieutenant's eyebrows shot upward at her aggressive defense of Eric.

"Calleigh—"

"No." Never, in almost five years of working with Horatio Caine, had Calleigh interrupted him. Not once. She recognized the sharp edge of the sword she was walking, but pushed ahead. "Horatio, I am sorry. You know how much I respect you. But if you are serious about wanting my input—well, I'm giving it to you."

Horatio studied her closely. "I'm listening."

Calleigh took a deep breath."Why are you so hard on Delko?"

To her surprise, he didn't try to deny it. Instead, he slowly walked over to his filing cabinet and opened the top drawer. Calleigh could see the tiredness in his features, and his movements seemed to sag with the weight of age and responsibility. When he spoke, his voice reflected the same burden.

Horatio turned back to his CSI holding a file in his hand. "This… is Eric Delko's personnel file. Do you know what's in it?"

Calleigh shook her head.

"Three years' worth of commendations and positive fit reps. Two citations for bravery in the line of duty. Four letters of praise from citizens' he has helped on his own time."

He saw that Calleigh didn't follow, and he continued. "There are also two private letters complaining that he crossed the line. You're right. I am hard on Eric. Because I know what a great police officer he can be. What a great CSI. Sometimes he needs motivation."

"Motivation," the woman repeated to herself. She couldn't help but give a small, derisive laugh. Yes, normally Horatio did an excellent job of motivating her fellow co-worker through spoken critique, because usually he balanced the criticism with ample encouragement. But not this time.

"Delko is more motivated than you could ever imagine, Horatio," she remarked quietly. "He is constantly fighting with himself to do better, fighting to earn your respect. In the end his biggest enemy is himself, his lack of self-confidence."

Horatio sensed that Calleigh was building up to something. "And?"

"And handing him a harsher punishment as incentive to improve—it will only make matters worse for him, and it sets a bad precedent for the department."

"You doubt me, then?" It wasn't said with malice, but it wasn't a question, and Calleigh understood that her boss was less than happy to be second-guessed. There was no backing down now, though.

"Your authority, of course not. This decision, yes," she said without hesitation. "I know Eric better than anyone, Horatio. He's been…"

"…on the verge of losing control," H finished for her. "Which is exactly why I suspended him. He needs to learn to leave his emotions at the door when he comes to work."

Calleigh suddenly remembered why she had stormed in here in the first place, and her fury boiled once more to the breaking point. "That's just it! None of us can do that. Especially you! Horatio, you pour your _heart_ and _soul_ into every case we work. We all do. That is what makes this team so good."

The CSI chief paused for a moment before answering. "I…use what I feel to solve cases. Solve them, Calleigh, not jeopardize them."

The woman threw her hands up in anger and pinned her boss with a glare. Pointing at the file he still held in his hands, she demanded, "Tell me what's in that file."

Horatio's brows furrowed, confused. "I did that already."

"No. I mean, tell me what it says about Eric."

Humoring his second-in-command, H flipped the file open and began to read. "Eric Delektorsky. CSI Level Two. Born December 18, 1976."

Calleigh stopped him before he could read further. "Where was he born?" she asked pointedly.

The redhead answered without looking at the paper. "Miami, Florida."

"Wrong."

His eyes snapped to Calleigh's, and for the first time, Horatio got the feeling that her anger might stem from something more than a sense of injustice for her best friend. "What?"

The blonde took a step toward her boss. "Wrong. Eric Delko was born in Havana, Cuba."

"That's impossible, Calleigh." But when Horatio riffled through Eric's personnel record, he could find no written indication of his birthplace. He finally looked back at his CSI and took a deep breath; seeing that Calleigh was dead serious, the man took a seat on the edge of his desk and motioned for Calleigh to sit across from him. She declined, preferring to stand.

"What am I missing, here?" Horatio did not like being left out of the loop. His three CSIs were the closest thing H had to children, and he wanted the absolute best for them. If he was honest with Calleigh, that's why he rode Eric so hard. His two senior CSIs had already come into their own, but Delko was still struggling to figure out who he was as a CSI, and as a person. Now, Calleigh stood before him contesting everything he thought he knew about the man.

"I don't even know where to start, Horatio," Calleigh sighed.

"How about the beginning. Eric was born in Havana?"

"Yes," she nodded. "December 1976, just like the file says. Two months later, his family made the trip from Cuba to the Keys. Over the years, every last one of them became naturalized citizens."

"The Cuban Adjustment Act," Horatio murmured.

"Right."

"You're not interested in giving me a lesson on citizenship, Calleigh, so why tell me all this?"

She stopped pacing directly in front of her LT. "Horatio, you are the best at what you do. But sometimes…sometimes you get so caught up in helping the victims and their families…you don't see much else."

He was beginning to get the picture. "Like Eric?"

The question hung heavy in the air between the pair for a minute as Calleigh contemplated the best way to explain it all. Just when Horatio thought she was about to speak, she handed him a ragged old photograph instead.

"Did you know that Eric wasn't always the baby of his family?" she inquired cryptically.

Horatio looked down at the photo in his hand. Twelve tanned, grinning little faces stared back at him. He immediately spotted a young Eric Delko in the middle of the pack of children.

"Delko's family," Calleigh explained, pointing at the boy in the center. "Here," she moved her finger, "are his sisters—Marisol, Gabriela, Isabel, and Clara. And these are his cousins: Nicolas, Ariel, Mercedes, Miguel, and Elena." She pointed to each in turn, her finger finally landing on the last face. "This is Alida."

"She can't be more than five years old," Horatio commented.

"Eric was nine in this picture, Alida was four."

"You said, 'Eric wasn't always the baby.' What happened to Alida?" he asked solemnly.

Cal spoke slow and even. "She was practically Eric's shadow—closer than his sisters, because she looked up to him, wanted to be like him. Eric was her hero; he watched out for her in the neighborhood, didn't let the cousins pick on her.

"When he was fifteen and Alida was ten, Eric realized he hadn't seen her all day. He spent two hours looking for her before he found her mangled body, half-submerged in a canal by their house."

She didn't mince her words; she needed Horatio to fully grasp what she was saying. The man's eyes trailed to the empty space over Calleigh's shoulder as she explained the details of Alida's murder and the discovery of her body.

"Her throat was slit. Most of her clothes were in tatters, and Eric knew as soon as he saw her that she'd been raped. Brutally. Think, Horatio—a fifteen-year-old kid pulling his baby cousin's bloody, mutilated body out of a canal."

"How…" H hesitated, "how long have you known this, Calleigh?"

Now it was Calleigh's turn to hesitate. Eric told her Alida's story in confidence, and she didn't exactly have permission to share it. "A while," she equivocated. At Horatio's penetrating glare, she relented. "Since his first week at CSI," she said on a sigh.

His two criminalists were close, Horatio knew, but he never would have guessed how instantaneous their bond had been. At least someone was there to listen; at the moment Horatio felt like he had failed Eric terribly.

"He never said a word," he muttered to himself.

Calleigh voiced her concern with quiet reproach. "You never asked, Horatio."

Silence filled the room. Horatio examined the faces in the picture, lingering on Eric's last. The little boy was doubled over in laughter; behind him, his sisters tickled him without mercy. Twelve joyous, carefree, innocent children.

"It doesn't change what Eric did," he admitted after a while. "David Kendall could walk."

"That alone is tearing Delko to pieces." Calleigh knew Horatio was right. Everyone dealt with their own personal demons, and they couldn't all go around attacking suspects. But if he could just _understand_…

"This is so much bigger than Kendall, H. These cases…they're difficult for him. But not just because of Alida," she said, praying Eric would eventually forgive her for divulging such intimate details about his life—even if this _was_ Horatio.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know Eric is half-Russian, half-Cuban."

"Right," H said, looking at the man's personnel record. "Pavel Delektorsky and Carmen De Los Santos."

"Wrong, again. Eric's father is Russian, but he is not Pavel Delektorsky."

Horatio was growing tired of this wild goose chase. "Calleigh, tell me the whole story."

"Eric's family left Havana because of _Eric_," she explained. "Pavel was a structural engineer, and Carmen worked as a secretary in a manufacturing plant. There was a Russian man named Sharova—Alexander Sharova, I think—who ran the factory where she worked.

"One night Carmen didn't come home. When Pavel went to the factory to look for her, he heard screaming coming from the manager's offices."

Calleigh stopped for a moment. Although he'd known about his mother's assault since childhood, Pavel and Carmen had only told Eric that a 'very bad man' had hurt his _mami_. As he grew older, Eric began to ask his father questions. After Alida's murder, Pavel realized he couldn't keep the whole truth from his son anymore.

"Horatio," Calleigh stated quietly, "Eric is the _product_ of a rape. He's had to live with that his entire life."

She watched the redheaded lieutenant toss Delko's file to his desk and bow his head, squeezing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. When he remained silent, she continued. "They never lied to him. He always knew that Pavel wasn't his biological father. When he found Alida…"

Horatio didn't need her to finish that statement. When Eric found Alida, he saw first-hand what his mother went through. He saw first-hand the kind of sick, twisted violence that made his very existence possible. Every day of his life Eric Delko had to look at his mother—a woman who loved him beyond compare—and know how much she sacrificed for him. And his father… as far as Horatio had seen, Pavel considered Eric his own flesh and blood. How much strength must it take for a man to walk in on his wife being raped, then raise the child of the monster that raped her like he was his own son?

"Eric never lacked for love," Calleigh declared. "He never felt like a burden, or like he didn't belong. Carmen calls him 'mi regalito'—her little gift. Their family healed a long time ago and moved on. But Eric—no matter what anyone does or says, he will always carry a little bit of shame. He feels guilty."

Horatio looked up at his CSI sadly. "I think I'm finally beginning to understand," he sighed. "And…I think I owe Eric an apology."

Cal's eyes went wide in alarm. "Delko never told you any of this because he didn't want to make excuses for himself. I—"

"Relax, Calleigh," came the gentle interruption. "You did the right thing. You might want to bring your Southern fury down a notch next time," he smiled, "but I'm grateful you felt the freedom to come talk to me."

Calleigh blushed, but smiled in return. "Deal," she said. "What happens next?"

"Next… we go home and get some sleep. And tomorrow, we remember Consuela Valdes."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Final chapter.

Chapter 5

* * *

The day was balmy at half-past ten in the morning. The canal was tepid, green, menacing. Any other day, Eric might have looked upon that water with eagerness in his eye, the chance to go swamp diving awaiting him. Not today. Today the water meant death. It meant suffering for a good and honest family.

The familia Valdes stood reverently, tearfully by the final resting place of their daughter, their sister, their niece and granddaughter. Consuela's small memorial would never be enough to remember the vivacity and joy the girl brought to life every day. The cross could never convey how much her family loved her or how much they would miss her.

Francisco tossed a white rose into the canal. Milagra's followed. In the background, the music played, and they remembered sweet Consuela.

I can fly but I want his wings

I can shine even in the darkness

Horatio stepped forward and added his rose to the others. The white petals stood out in stark contrast against the deep green of the moss and algae.

But I crave the light that he brings

Revel in the songs that he sings

My angel Gabriel

Eric took Horatio's place by the edge of the water. He lifted his rose and stared at it for a moment before throwing it into the canal. A final act of kindness. A final apology to the girl he should have saved.

I can love…

Calleigh moved to stand beside Eric and contributed her own flower. Mere inches separated the two friends, and their hands absently reached for each other. Francisco and Milagra slowly turned away from their daughter's memorial, Horatio followed them, and Calleigh seized the opportunity to seek Eric's gaze. No words, just the compassion only a best friend can give.

To hell with the carefully constructed boundaries they'd built over the years. Eric pulled Calleigh into an impossibly tight hug. Her toes nearly left the ground as he tugged her close and buried his head in her shoulder. He wouldn't cry, but his chest ached and he valiantly fought the constriction in his throat.

Calleigh smelled like lilies and honeysuckle, and she drowned out the musk of the nearby glades. At first Eric's gesture had taken her aback, because he rarely hugged her and he _never_ hugged her like this, so greedily or desperately. He sank against her.

She felt his slow, labored breath against her neck and sighed. It was nice to be needed, and Calleigh relished the ability to comfort the man who rarely let her do so. She didn't have many chances to exercise her nurturing side. In truth, she didn't often _pursue_ the chance to nurture others. Speedle and Eric, perhaps her father and brothers, were the exceptions.

Eventually Eric let her go, but Calleigh didn't do the same and held fast to his hand. Their eyes locked and he squeezed her fingers in gratitude.

"Okay?" she asked.

"Okay." His voice was clear and absent of the consuming guilt which had filled it the last few days, and Calleigh took that as a good sign.

"You sound better," she remarked.

A ghost of a smile darted across Eric's face. "I feel better. Talking to Consuela's family, the memorial—it helped."

"I'm glad." She stole one last glance at the canal behind them, and Eric's eyes followed. "We should get going."

"Yeah."

They took off in the direction of their vehicles, a good mile from where they currently stood. Calleigh kept her hand locked with Eric's, smiling at the sweat that inevitably formed between their palms.

Eric noticed her pursed lips. "What's so funny, Cal?"

Calleigh's expression burgeoned into one of amusement. "You're all sticky," she laughed.

Her laughter was contagious, and Eric smiled, too. "No, _you're _all sticky."

"I guess that's the joy of holding hands," the petite blonde responded with an off-handed shrug of her shoulders. She playfully swung their conjoined fingers back and forth and skipped a step as she walked. Delko laughed even harder at her antics. He could easily picture a young Calleigh Duquesne, all braided pigtails and scraped knees, running wildly in the woods behind her house. Probably chasing her little brothers.

Eric's mind settled into quiet thoughtfulness. "Thank you, Calleigh," he uttered sincerely.

She looked up at him. "For what?"

"For being such a good friend. For knowing how to distract me for a while."

"Well, you would do the same. I'm just glad you let me."

Eric smiled again, his white teeth peeking out shyly from behind his lips. "Hey, you're just as stubborn sometimes."

"Well, that's why we're such great friends," Calleigh chuckled.

They settled into comfortable silence the last quarter mile and dropped their hands with a final squeeze as they reached the end of the dirt trail. Eric turned toward his car and was about to throw out a goodbye when Calleigh beat him to the punch.

"Hey, Delko!" she called. Crossing the few feet between them, she wrapped him in another tight hug and then pulled back to meet his eyes. "Everything's going to be okay."

Eric nodded. "I would say I'll see you at work tomorrow, but I guess that's not true, is it?"

Calleigh dismissed his comment and Eric could see that she wasn't going to let him wallow in either guilt or pity. No patience for bullshit, this woman. "Dinner. My place, 7:30. Bring beer."

Eric rolled his eyes but agreed. "Got it. I'll see ya later."

"'Kay."

They parted ways, but neither one of them made it to their respective vehicles. Eric was distracted by the sight of Horatio standing twenty feet away, twiddling his sunglasses and talking to a reporter, and Calleigh was distracted by Eric's distraction. Although she craved the relief of the Hummer's frigid air-conditioner, Calleigh surreptitiously circled her car and watched her friend instead. His olive skin was beginning to glisten in the ever-present Miami sun, but he paid no heed to the oppressive heat and stood stock still, training his ears to catch his LT's conversation.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant Caine. Jake Grant with the Sun-Times," Eric heard the stranger explain. "I'm doing a story on CSI's involvement with the David Kendall case."

Seven yards away, Delko's stomach dropped. An exposé on police officers who attacked cuffed prisoners would ruin his career, not to mention tarnish H's reputation and jeopardize the lab's credibility.

There was no basis for his fear, however, as he quickly realized Grant had no knowledge of his little rampage, nor was he seeking to vilify the police department. Quite the contrary, he seemed impressed with their work and wanted to highlight MDPD's dedication to finding missing children.

Missing white children, Eric corrected. It wasn't a personal critique of Jake Grant, rather a commentary on the concerns of the media as a whole. Little attention was ever paid to the scores of disappeared children with brown or black skin.

"Do you have any comment?"

"I'll do better than that." Horatio never ceased to surprise his youngest CSI. Reaching into his coat pocket, he retrieved a plain white piece of paper and handed it to the Sun-Times reporter, who examined it for a moment.

"It's a list of names."

Horatio nodded. "Yes. In the last twelve months, Jake, seven Hispanic girls and five black girls disappeared right here in Miami, and not one of them made it to the front page."

"What's your point?"

"What's my point?" the redhead asked, turning away from Grant. "Make it your next story." With that, he walked away.

Lt. Caine maintained a positive relationship with the local media, minus the occasional over-zealous investigative journalist. Delko knew that Horatio never said something he didn't mean, never made promises he couldn't keep. The press knew it, too, and conveyed as much to their audiences. Thus, even though H's short comments made for great stuff on the evening news, most people were aware that he was not a man of simple sound bites.

His words resonated with Eric. Perhaps everything that had happened wasn't completely in vain; Horatio was basically promising the public a change at MDPD and challenging all of Miami to do the same thing. He watched his boss walk straight toward him, and the look in his eye said that he had something on his mind other than reporters.

As the older man approached, he said, "Eric, I want to talk to you."

Delko's anger had dissipated over the night and he faced Horatio now without resentment. Really, he'd never resented the man. H wasn't just his boss, he was a friend, and Eric's anger was aimed more at himself than the strict punishment he had received.

"Okay."

"Follow me to Alessandro's?" Horatio asked. That was odd. The two men often shared a brown bag lunch in the courtyard behind CSI, a quick bite in the middle of a hectic day. But to take time to go to a restaurant, to intentionally meet, was something new.

Eric agreed, wondering what was on Horatio's mind. "Alright. I'll be right behind you."

H nodded and headed to his Hummer. Behind her own county vehicle, Calleigh witnessed the entirety of both exchanges. Smiling to herself, she continued to watch as the men drove away. Eric may have no idea what their LT wanted to discuss, but Calleigh knew exactly what occupied his thoughts.

A new chapter, open and honest, was about to start for their team. Calleigh looked forward to it with great expectation. She climbed into her truck, thinking happily that things were on the brink of change for her best friend.

* * *

At half-past twelve in the afternoon, the day was just hot. The air was thick, heavy, and suffocating. Eric and Horatio sat across from each other in a small booth under the blessed fans of Alessandro's, the CSIs' go-to for Italian food.

As soon as they had ordered, Delko cut to the chase. He was nervous enough as it was, and it was not with a little shame that he sat before his boss and mentor right now. "What's up, H?"

Horatio stared at his hands, playing, as always, with his dark sunglasses. "I, um, I wanted to talk to you, Eric." His blue eyes rose to meet brown.

"Go on," Eric said and shifted in his seat.

"I, um, I had a conversation with Calleigh last night."

Calleigh? H was taking him out to lunch to talk about Calleigh? Eric wondered if this had anything to do with this morning. They didn't make a habit of such closeness, and now that he thought about it, he could see how easily their behavior at the memorial service could be mistaken for something more than it was. The boundaries they built in their friendship weren't there for nothing, after all.

Eric and Calleigh were not blind to the attraction that flowed between them when they first met. Wisely, they chose to ignore it. Neither one of them wanted to start something, and definitely not with a coworker. So they'd become best friends instead, naturally forming some unwritten and unspoken rules about how they interacted with each other. No use in playing with fire, no matter how latent the flames seemed to be.

Now, Eric barely thought about it. They bantered, parried, flirted like any man and woman who spent a majority of their time together. On a few occasions the attraction would rear its tempestuous head and remind Eric that it was still there, but his friendship with Calleigh superseded any other feelings he may or may not have for her. Maybe someday that would change, but not today, and not tomorrow.

Horatio had waited for some kind of reaction from Delko, but receiving nothing but a thoughtful gaze, he pressed on. "She was upset."

Eric scrunched his forehead with a bit of concern. "Why would Cal be upset?"

"She, um, she took issue with the way I handled the incident with Kendall."

Although it didn't happen very often, it _was_ possible for Eric to get angry at Calleigh. And right now, he was pretty damn mad.

"She shouldn't have interfered," he said roughly. He dreaded to think what she'd done, what she'd said on his behalf. If Calleigh was truly upset, she was a force to be reckoned with. Eric leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, contemplating the ramifications of her actions.

"I'm glad she did, Eric," Horatio admitted.

Eric's eyes snapped up quickly. "What?"

"I'm glad she spoke up," the man sighed and rested his elbows on the table. He chuckled. "She's a hell of a woman."

Delko couldn't deny that. "What did she say?"

"Several things. Before I explain, you need to know that Calleigh came to me as my chief of staff first, and your friend second. She would never betray your trust."

"But apparently she did," Eric remarked, seeing where this conversation was going.

"No. Calleigh saw an issue with the team that I couldn't. She's perceptive, Eric, and straightforward. That's why I hired her."

"So…"

"So," Horatio said slowly, "we had a conversation about your personnel file."

"What was the conclusion?"

"The conclusion, the conclusion was that I am not perfect. And I owe you an apology."

Of all the things Eric expected Horatio to say to him over lunch, apologizing was never on the agenda. One of the things he appreciated most about the lieutenant was his willingness to own his mistakes, so he shouldn't have been surprised.

Nevertheless, he was a little embarrassed that Calleigh's interdiction had led to such a gesture. "No you don't, H. I know I went too far. Whatever Calleigh said to you doesn't change that."

"That's what I said," Horatio smiled. "But there are mitigating circumstances."

"And how's that."

"When Calleigh came into my office, she asked me a question. She asked me why I come down so hard on you. Judging by your reaction…I take it you realize she's right?"

"Yeah," Delko said in surprise, shaking his head. "But I didn't think _you_ knew she was. I mean… I don't know what I mean."

"You didn't think I recognized what I was doing?"

"Yeah, I guess. Listen, I'm not complaining—"

Horatio stopped him. "Eric, I know that. It speaks to your character that you didn't. And it speaks to Calleigh's that she did…"

Their meals arrived and the conversation turned briefly to the waiter and the food. Taking a bite of his Portobello ravioli and a sip of his drink, Eric resumed their talk. "So Calleigh complained? About what?"

"She didn't complain," Horatio clarified. "She made a compelling case for why I should, ah, _adjust_ my approach to my CSIs." A wry smile formed on his lips that made Eric believe the man hadn't totally disagreed with his fiery ballistics expert. To be a fly on _that_ wall…

"Calleigh had every right to approach me. Eric, I value your contributions to this team. I value your friendship. Calleigh pointed out that sometimes, sometimes I forget to show it."

"H—" The young CSI wanted to reassure Horatio that he never once doubted the man's devotion to either his job or the people that worked for him. If Delko, Speedle, and Calleigh were the Three Musketeers, Horatio was Alexandre Dumas. Without him at their helm, there would be no _them_.

"Listen, Eric. I do take a hard line with you. I gave Calleigh your personnel file to show her why. You're an outstanding criminalist, but you have a lot to learn. Using your emotions to your advantage and not your detriment, for instance."

"I know," Eric declared, feeling chastised and not quite looking Horatio in the eye.

"Hold on, Mr. Delko. Calleigh had a few lessons to teach me in return."

Baffled, Eric set down his fork and indicated that Horatio explain. The man didn't speak, but reached into his jacket and removed a brown-tinted, well-loved photograph. He set it gently on the table between them, and Eric recognized it instantly.

"Where did you get this?" he asked angrily, snatching up the picture. He couldn't bring himself to put it away, but he also didn't feel right about leaving it on the table for all the world to see. The photo represented so much about who he was, who he used to be. Somehow, he felt like leaving it exposed left _him _exposed. And in reality, it did.

"Calleigh gave it to me. Eric, hear me out, okay?"

"What do you know, H?" Delko's tone brooked no argument. Horatio would answer this time.

"As I said, several things. Things that _weren't_ in your record. I know…I know you weren't born in Miami. I know about Alida…I know about Alexander Sharova."

Eric shut his eyes tight, scratched his head, and let out a very frustrated breath. "Calleigh…"

"Don't Eric."

"There's a reason I didn't tell you! I—I didn't mean to disrespect you, or lie to you. Calleigh's the only one who knows those things and, God, I don't know."

"She was right to tell me. I understand why you didn't. I thought the only way for you to take your heart off your sleeve was with a strong lesson in discipline. I know better now."

"Just because you heard a few stories about my past?" Delko sounded skeptical at best. He had much to be proud of in his life, but much to be ashamed of, too. He'd fought hard for Horatio's respect, and he didn't want his mentor to think less of him after what he'd learned.

"Yes. Because, Eric, you and I are the same person." The younger man scoffed, but Horatio persisted, undaunted and headstrong from years spent carrying the same burdens as the CSI on the other side of that table.

"Go ahead and pretend like the guilt, the shame isn't devastating, Eric. Tell me you don't think about it every morning when you wake up. And I will tell you that your life, your life is waiting. It won't wait forever."

For the second time that day, Eric fought against the damn lump in his throat. Complete honesty burned in Horatio's eyes. Blue eyes that had seen their fair share of hurt and regret. "Horatio, I can't just forget my past. It doesn't work that way."

"No, it doesn't. And it shouldn't." He took a deep breath and formulated his next words, speaking again with a new set to his shoulders. "You know, when I was a rookie at NYPD, an old sergeant took me under his wing. He told me something."

"Hmm."

"'Our pasts will always haunt us,' he said. 'The day you turn your story into something more, you'll be a cop.' Eric, you have discipline, you have drive. You need trust."

Delko was so caught up trying to decipher the first part of Horatio's statement that he didn't grasp the meaning of the second part. "Sorry?"

H smiled. "I talked to Mr. Stetler this morning. The SA is proceeding with David Kendall's prosecution. Barring paperwork, IA has completed their investigation. As for the suspension, I expect to see you back at work on Monday morning."

"Are you serious?" Eric was shocked at the sudden turnabout. First of all, Internal Affairs never wrapped up an inquiry so quickly. Horatio most certainly had a hand in the decision to close the case. The question was, 'Why?' The answer came in the form of a Southern spitfire named Calleigh Duquesne.

"Yes, I am. The letter of reprimand stands, Eric. I, um, I wanted to talk to you about something else."

"Okay." Honestly, what else could there be?

"The part about trust… Fit reps are due in two weeks. When I send them in, I am recommending you for promotion to CSI Level 3."

"H," Delko interrupted. The lieutenant had lost his mind. Eric beats up a suspect, ignores a direct order from his supervisor, walks out on the job, and the man not only mitigates his punishment, he promotes him early? "Do—do you know what that will look like?"

"I do. It will look like I have confidence in my CSI. Eric, no one can deny your merit as a police officer. You need guidance, and starting today, I am here for you. Like I should have been all along."

Eric nodded slowly, letting everything sink in. Horatio was dead on. The secrets of his past tortured him, but they propelled him forward. Handing Eric more responsibility—healthy responsibility—would require him to focus more on the job and less on his inner turmoil. He'd have to step up in a big way. With his LT behind him, Delko felt the smallest glimmer of hope; he could conquer his demons, channel his struggles into the work he loved so much. He could make Alida proud.

"I don't know what to say, H."

"Say you'll come talk to me when your temper starts to get the best of you."

A bright smile broke across Eric's face. "I can do that," he said, extending his hand to his boss. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Mr. Delko, yesterday can't happen again."

"It won't," he grinned. "It won't."

"Good," Horatio said, his own knowing smile spreading wide. The check was on the table and they were finished eating, so he threw down a few bills and the two men made their way out of the restaurant. Once in the parking lot, Delko shook Horatio's hand again. They said their goodbyes and headed to their cars.

"Oh, and Eric!" H called at the last minute. When he had his counterpart's attention, he said with a wink, "Go easy on Calleigh tonight."

"How did you—" Eric started to ask, but Horatio was already gone. If he'd learned anything today about Horatio Caine, it was that the man knew a lot more than he let on. Eric just smiled and pulled his cell out of his front pocket. He hit speed dial, and a voice soon came over the line.

"Duquesne."

"Calleigh, you are in so much trouble…" Eric climbed in his car, talking to his friend and thinking that he was a lucky man to have a woman like her on his side.

_Someday_, he thought with a secret smile. _Maybe someday._


End file.
